


Dream Journal

by ScarletteStar1



Category: The Fall (TV 2013), The X-Files
Genre: F/F, Mutual Masturbation, Oral, Scully x Stella, Smut, Voyeurism, dream fic, gay af, no real plot, sometimes Dana has a cock?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2020-12-09 06:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20990591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: Stella records all of her dreams in a journal, including a series of recurring dreams which involve an American red head with a very familiar face.Thank you in advance for reading this indulgence. All comments and prompts are most welcome.





	1. The First

It’s the first time I’ve seen her in my dreams, and yet I’ve seen her thousands, possibly millions of times in everyday life. I’ve seen her every time I look at myself in the mirror, or at least some other version of her. She’s my face, but she’s got red hair. Flaming, gleaming red like the maple tree in my childhood yard in autumn. Oh, how it blazed. . .

I’ve awoken sweaty. I’ve awoken feeling wet and breathing hard as if I’ve just climbed out of the pool instead of a dream.

And I want to go back to sleep. I want to go back so I can see her again.

Details are hazy at first and then they flood me vividly and with a sense of relief.

I follow her down a long corridor into a room velvety with darkness. She smiles at me with a little flick of her eyebrow. I’m watching, waiting, curiously feeling more aroused with every moment that passes.

I want her to touch me.

As though she reads my mind, she reaches out quick as a cat, and grabs my wrist. With an almost devious smile, she pulls me toward her and squeezes my wrist.

“How long can you do that for?” I ask her. My voice is breathy, inexplicable.

“What? Hold you?” She asks in response. She has an American accent. Her voice is low, husky with teasing.

“Yes,” I gasp as she tightens her grip.

“That depends,” she says and gentles her touch. I reach up and stroke the lock of crimson silk that has fallen in her face. She’s warm. I feel her warmth to the tips of my toes and suddenly shiver at my own coolness. “You’re cold,” she states.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t do that,” she says and takes off her jacket which is plain and black. She wraps it around my shoulders. “Don’t pretend. Not with me.”

“Not with you,” I mutter and her lips are right against mine. I put my hands on her hips and the heat of her body filters into my own flesh. My nipples tighten beneath the silk of my blouse as they brush against her breasts. “Oh, you’re lovely,” I nuzzle into her face. I know not if it is my own arousal or hers I smell wafting up between us. She slips a thigh between my legs and our hips begin rubbing, seeking without any pretense. She pants softly against me.

“I’ll come,” she gasps.

“Yes,” I plead and thrust my fingers beneath her sweater. I’ve never needed anything so much as I need the sensation of her skin. Her tongue brushes over my lips and I open my mouth to kiss her with deep urgency.

“Come with me,” she begs. I wrap her hair in my fist and pull her head back to admire the sheen of sweat on her silky, porcelain neck.

“I can’t,” I surprise myself by weeping, even as I feel her come apart against me. Her wetness seeps from her crotch through the material of my skirt.

It is this with this extraordinary saturation I wake, breathless, disoriented, alone.

Though desperately tempted to relieve myself with my own fingers (and know relief would come oh so quickly), I instantly grab my dream journal, not just from force of habit, but because I do not want to disregard or forget a single detail of this ecstatic encounter.

It is the first time she’s visited me as such, but I am hoping it will not be the last.


	2. Copycat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams are weird. And sexy. True.

She stands at the copy machine with her back to me. She’s wearing an Oxford blue shirt tucked into a navy blue pencil skirt (further proof I not only dream in color, but in very distinct shades and gradients). Shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to the other, she appears impatient. I recognize my own urge to twirl her hair around my finger, but it is not her hair I touch when I approach her. 

I place my hands on her hips. She takes her hands off the copy machine and places them on top of mine. The heels I wear are higher than the little wedges she’s in, so I’m just an inch or two taller than her. The height advantage makes me feel simultaneously powerful and self conscious. 

She takes my hands and brings them to her breasts. I feel the taught flesh and pert nipples beneath her crisp shirt. Palming and caressing her feels oddly familiar. “Do I know you?” I whisper in her ear. “How do I know you?” Her only answer is to arch her breasts into my hands, and her ass back against my crotch. Instantly, I’m swollen with want. 

But there is an office full of people and I’m suddenly and painfully aware of my dripping arousal. She rolls her head back on my shoulder, and it’s when I feel her hair on my chest, I realize I’m completely naked. 

“We need to go someplace,” I gasp. “I need clothing. They will see.”

“What will they see, Stella?” She asks and turns as smooth and graceful as a sea creature in my embrace. 

“I work with these men,” I try to explain. “They can’t see me like. . . like this!”

“You work with these men,” she says. She rolls the words around drolly in her mouth. “They cannot see you like this.”

“Right, right!” I plead, but she smiles. I cannot tell if her eyes are green or blue. 

“Let’s meet for a drink later,” she says. “But for now, bite me. . . here. . .” she tips back her head to expose the ivory column of her neck. It is more than I could possibly resist. I lower my face to her vanilla and amber scented flesh and sink my teeth into the prominent tendon. I suck up a bruise, caressing with my tongue to soothe the wound, as I exert pressure with my teeth and mouth. She’s succulent. She cries out and moans and slips her fingers into the slippery cleft between my thighs. She plucks at my clit like it is a musical instrument. 

“Ffffuuucckkkk,” I hiss. I realize all of a sudden I’ve been so aroused this whole time I will come with almost no effort. It’s thrilling to feel her fingers play upon me as if she knows exactly what I like, although I’m certain she’s not a former lover and has no real previous knowledge of my body. She is blindingly light. I squeeze my eyes shut against the brightness, but it does little to help as we start spinning to the tempo of the copy machine. It’s like being drunk- not entirely unpleasant, yet disorienting and strange. 

“Open your eyes, Stella,” she says softly. I comply. We’ve found ourselves in a rustic cabin on a couch that’s been pulled out to make a bed. Next to one another, we lie. Our bodies are long, lean, naked. It is almost as if we mirror one another as our hands move to touch. My face hovers above hers and we pant warmly as our nipples touch. I grab her head and pull her in to kiss her. While I intend to be tender, the kiss is almost immediately and wildly deep. Our tongues stroke and search savagely over one another. 

Her fingers slide and curl into me, one after another. I’m breathing hard now, riding her hand, feeling my breasts brush over hers, sucking her tongue, desperate to come. She’s so lovely; I’ve never felt anything so glowingly perfect in my life. My climax is like a shattering scream that threatens to tear me apart with its intensity. She presses her thigh into me to ease me down as I undulate against her in a pleasure near pain. 

She whispers my name. 

“Stella?”

“Mmmh? Yes?” I murmur. 

I open my eyes to find myself on the cot in my office. Jim stares down at me. He asks if I was having a bad dream. “I heard you moaning and crying out. I came in to make sure you were okay.”

“Yes,” I sigh and rub my face. “Thank you. Must have been a dream.” I thank him for waking me in time to ready myself for the morning briefing.


	3. All Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams are weird, right? And sometimes in dreams, women who do not normally have cocks, have cocks. . . because anything can happen.

The dreams are relentless, and even as they bewilder and leave me randy and distracted throughout the day, I do not wish for them to stop. 

In the latest one, she introduces herself as a Special Agent. She shakes my hand with a firm grip which I return with equal pressure, as if competing to see who is stronger. 

"A pleasure to meet you, Special Agent," I say.

"Please, call me Dana," she says and looks up from beneath auburn fringe with green-gray eyes that are pleasant, but also unsettling in their all-knowingness. A seagull cries and we both look up at the sky, mirroring one another as we shield our faces from the glare of sun off of sea. I realize we are in a cove and there is a dead body at our feet. 

"What do you make of this then?" I ask, trying to sound as though I know what is going on, as though I am not constantly playing catch up because I am so terribly caught off guard by her wry smile. 

"Not much," she says. She begins to walk up a gentle slope and looks back at me with a wordless indication that I follow. The noises of investigators and crime photographers grow distant. "I'm certain there is a logical explanation," she sighs.

"You favor logic?"

"I do," she says. We are on a street now, walking toward my car. The warmth and sun nearly blinds, and sweat trickles down my back, under my silk blouse. I notice Dana wears a long, dark coat, the kind a detective in an old movie might wear. I look her up and down and find her wardrobe immaculate. 

"You're quite fancy," I offer. It does not seem something I would say. 

"No, you are though," she states as we arrive at my car. Boldly, she pushes me up against it and I feel her cock harden against me. Surprised and instantly wet, my eyes widen. 

"How?" I gasp. "I thought. . . but you're. . ." I'm fumbling for words even as I'm opening my legs so I can rub against the thick member which is rising straight up in her skirt. 

"I'm all things, Stella," she whispers and puts a hand on my neck and a hand on my waist. She kisses my neck and nuzzles my ear as she presses into me. "Do you like that?"

"Yes," I pant and pull her mammoth coat around us, desperate with need for this woman to fuck me, for her to fill me, flood me, ride me like I've never been ridden before. She takes my hand and guides it down beneath her skirt, between her legs, and invites me to caress her velvety shaft. I stroke up to feel the sticky, leaking head, drag my fingers through the slit as though I am touching her pussy. All the while, I watch the expressions of intense wonder and arousal on her face. So lost am I in her foggy eyes, I have barely realized she's rucked up my skirt, torn my hosiery away from my flesh, and slipped her fingers in the side of my panties. 

"You feel incredible, Stella," she moans as she dips her fingers into my slick and brings it up to moisten my clit which is practically stinging from need. "Do you like that?"

"Yes," I choke as I squeeze and pump at her cock. Still hidden under her coat, she brings my leg up around her waist so she can angle herself at my opening. For a while, I play with her, rubbing the head of her massively erect prick against my clit until it is almost too much, until I am almost too close. "Oh, god, you're so petite. How on earth can you be so large?" I wonder aloud as she sinks into me, inch by gloriously hot inch. 

"I'm all things, Stella," she says again and devours my mouth with hers. The rest of the world has faded to black and the only thing that exists now is the single body we have created with our fucking. The only thing I know is the heat of her tongue stroking over my own in rhythm with her cock plunging in and out of me. I cling to her arse, her breasts, her neck. I pull her hair. I want everything all at once, but never do we stop kissing or fucking. It might continue for minutes or days, and when we cum it is in tandem, our eyes wide open, but lips still sealed tight to one another. Our orgasms are ponderously long. We rock against one another in wave after wave of pulsating bliss. When we stop, it crosses my mind to kneel and lick my juices off of her, but before I can do this, before she can even pull herself from me, it is blindingly bright again. 

"No, no," I whimper. I wake with my own fingers deep inside of me. When I take them out, they are practically wrinkled from however long they have been in that wet, warm cavern of pleasure. I bring them to my mouth and suck on them, taste myself, and whisper, "All things."


	4. Need or Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo. This little nugget was just a bit of escape from quarantine blues and work at home drudgery. I hope it finds all of you beauties happy and healthy. Please feel free to leave me some comment love, if you are so inclined, as comments truly make my life more bearable. xoxoxo.

“Why do I dream of you?” I ask her.

“Mmmh, I dunno, Stella,” she shrugs with an adorable smile.

“I love your accent. I love the way you say my name,” I touch her cheek. My fingers drift down over her neck.

“I don’t have an accent,” she laughs. “This is what they call non regional diction in America. You’re the one with the sexy accent.” She leans in and kisses me. I can’t keep my hands off of her. Her body is a perfect combination of compact and lithe, of soft and firm. It’s a relief to be in the privacy of my hotel room where I can unbutton her blouse and push her back on the luxuriously plush mattress.

“I am so happy you are here,” I practically growl as I crawl over her. “God, Dana, you’re fucking perfect. Look at you.” She’s wearing a simple but elegant beige cami under the blouse I’ve made short work of unbuttoning, and the sight of her grinning up at me as I slide a finger under one of the straps and stroke her shoulder makes me gush in my panties and grind my hips down on her. When I do this, she closes her eyes and presses her lips together with a soft moan, then opens back up to look at me, raises her head off the bed to catch my lips with hers.

She’s like a rare vintage of wine, poured out into a fine crystal goblet. I know I should hold her carefully and savor every sip, but god help me, I just want to guzzle her down as quickly as possible, to consume her and have her fill me, have her very essence deep within my own being. I catch myself being a bit rough as I kiss and bite her neck, as I mouth at her breasts over the silky material of her camisole. “Gosh, I’m sorry,” I breathe.

“No,” she says and strips my shirt off. The sensation of our skin meeting is exquisitely warm and softer than satin. She licks my bottom lip and tugs on it with her teeth. “I like it when you’re a little rough.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she pants softly and wiggles out of her skirt. “I want it. And I won’t break. I promise.”

"This frisky and mischievous eyebrow thing you do will be the death of me."

"Then I'll make a note to do it more often," she laughs. Her hands know exactly how to roll my breasts, how to pinch my nipples and make me whimper with lust. She gets me out of my pants and has me making noises I didn’t even know I could make. It’s almost too good. I push in between her legs and spread them open wide so I can scoot down to her glorious, crimson bush. She’s tidy, but natural.

“You’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” I whisper and lower my face to worship the slick slit she offers me. “I need to make you cum,” I hum against her, sensing as I work my tongue into her folds, I’m already close. In fact, as I lick her, as I slip and curl my fingers into her gorgeous, hot pussy, it feels as though the exact same things are happening to me. I reach a hand up and she grabs it, places it over her breast and squeezes my fingers against her. Somehow, I feel the tight pressure encasing my own breasts and nipples. “Dana, what are you doing to me?”

“Don’t stop,” she gasps out. “I’m so close. Stella, fuck, oh god, don’t fucking stop!” She reaches down and pulls my head tight against her so my lips and tongue are mashed into her. I haven’t the slightest clue how I feel her fingers in me as I fuck her to the edge with my tongue on her clit and my fingers knuckle deep within her, but I do and it’s explosive. One hand on her breast, the other inside of her, my mouth working her delicious cunt, I writhe against the bed and climax in a shattering burst in perfect synchronicity with her.

“I don’t want to wake,” I whisper. She’s stroking my back, holding me close to her.

“So don’t,” she purrs. “Stay here.”

“If only,” I exhale.

“Need or desire?” She says.

“What?”

“Your dreams. What do you think they are for?” In the dark, her jade eyes gleam enigmatically.

“If only I knew.” Our kisses are soft and sweet until the sun wakes me and I am alone once more.


End file.
